


Young, Dumb, and Full of...

by cathybites



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 20:13:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4890568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathybites/pseuds/cathybites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>nothing but porn, written for offseasonmatch three years ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Young, Dumb, and Full of...

**Author's Note:**

> I'd actually forgotten I'd written this. Figured I might as well throw it up here.

It was easier than Michael had expected.

Not that he had ever expected anything like this, the sure way Seguin's mouth slid over his throat, or the hard press of fingers on his hipbones that made him gasp and arch up into Seguin's touch.

He could feel Seguin's mouth curl into a smile before moving up, along his jawline. "Liked that?"

Michael nodded easily. Easy, everything was so fucking easy. It'd been easy to go along with Boyle when he suggested heading to a bar after the game, a post-victory celebration. Two days until the next game in Buffalo, so they had the extra night in Boston, a chance to breathe during the wild run of games, trying to make up time lost from the lockout.

Easy to spot Seguin at the bar, surrounded by fans, still in love with him even after the loss. Michael had paused when he saw him, wondering if he should suggest to Brian that they find another place. But Seguin looked over, surprise evident on his face, followed by a smile and nod of acknowledgement.

Easy to buy him a drink, a consolation prize for the loss, and Seguin had flipped Michael off when he said that. Even easier to accept one in return, and then another, and another. Michael knew Seguin. Not well enough to consider him a buddy, but enough to feel comfortable, to let his guard down a little, to slump against him as the night wore on, head lolling on Seguin's shoulder.

Seguin had wrapped an arm around him at that, leaned in so close that Michael could feel the light brush of his lips against his ear, and had asked, "Wanna get out of here?" Michael hadn't thought about it. He hadn't really expected to pick up that night, had definitely not expected to pick up another player. But Seguin's other hand had moved to his thigh, warm and heavy, thumb moving slowly back and forth, and it had been easy - so, so easy - to nod and say, "Yeah."

And so they had ended up at Seguin's place, sprawled on top of his bed, Seguin's body pressing him down into the mattress. Seguin's fingers drummed over his hipbones and Michael nodded again. Seguin gripped his hips, hard enough to bruise, and Michael had to bite down on his lip to keep the whimper in. He tugged at Seguin's shirt, fingers too clumsy with drink to undo the buttons, but Seguin got the hint, sat up to take it off before stripping Michael from his.

This was so much better, having Seguin's bare, warm skin against his own, and Seguin kissed him, too sloppy and wet to be anything close to skillful, but Michael was beyond caring, not when Seguin's hands were framing his face, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Michael spread his legs, let Seguin press fully into him, hips rolling against each other.

Michael reached between them and palmed the hard line of Seguin's cock through his jeans. He grinned at Seguin's moan. "Liked that?" and Seguin huffed, muttered, "Smartass," but he thrust against Michael's hand, demanding.

"Lift up," Michael said, and Seguin did, just enough for Michael to get at his fly, fumbling at it until the button popped and he could pull the zipper down. Another second to shove Seguin's pants and boxers out of the way, and Michael wasted no time, wrapped a hand around Seguin's cock. Seguin moaned again, breath hitching a little at the end, and Michael had to press his other hand down at the base of his own hard cock.

He gave Seguin's dick a few light pulls, then nudged at his shoulder. "Here, roll over," and they switched places, Seguin on his back with Michael leaning over him.

He took hold of Seguin's cock again, thumb rubbing over the crown, smearing the precome. Seguin whimprered, then let out another moan once Michael began to jerk him off. Slow at first, reaction time still dulled a little by alcohol, then gradually faster, harder.

"Wait," Seguin said, grabbing his wrist. "Can you, like. It's too dry."

Later, Michael would realize he'd probably just wanted him to use lotion, or at least some spit, but it was easy - again, so fucking easy - to just lean over and take him in his mouth.

Seguin swore, hands flying to Michael's head, fisting in his hair for a moment before letting go. "Sorry, sorry."

Michael didn't answer, just grabbed his hand and brought it back to his head. Seguin swore again, fingers tightening around Michael's curls.

It wasn't perfect, maybe one of the worst blowjobs Michael had ever given, but Seguin was into it. He swore every time Michael sucked at the head, pulled at his hair tight when he tongued at the slit. Michael had one hand wrapped around the base and the other palming his balls, then moving back.

Seguin's jeans were still on, pushed down only to his knees, but it was enough for him to spread his thighs, giving Michael room. Michael swallowed down Seguin's cock, moving down until he could feel the head push into his throat. His thumb pressed down on the soft warm skin behind Seguin's balls, and Seguin swore loudly, hips jerking up. Bitter salt filled Michael's mouth, and he pulled off, coughing.

"Fuck, sorry, fuck," Seguin said.

"Some warning next time, asshole."

"Sorry! Here." He pushed Michael to mattress, pulling his pants down. "Next time, next time you can come all over my face," he said, hand curling around Michael's dick, jerking him off.

"Why not now?" Michael managed to get out, but it was already too late. It seemed like he'd been hard forever, riding on the edge of his orgasm, and it only took a few good strong pulls for him to come all over Seguin's fist.

He settled down into the mattress, trying to catch his breath as Seguin wiped his hand off with his shirt. After a moment he asked, "Next time?"

Seguin stilled, then shrugged. "Just offering. Y'know, if you're interested."

Michael thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, okay. Next time."


End file.
